


Mindless

by Wrathofscribbles



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 10:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21035081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrathofscribbles/pseuds/Wrathofscribbles
Summary: He is not a puppet, he is not a slave.  It is his life, and his alone to choose.





	Mindless

**Author's Note:**

> **Big bold reminder that I don't own Dragon Age or any of its content and characters, I just play in the sandbox BioWare created.**

Blood in his ears, pounding, a drum to match his heartbeat. Frantic as the breath he can't quite catch, sharp pain stabbing through his chest with every one. A rib, most likely, maybe two.

But knowing he's _alive_ is a heady thing, a dangerous thing, relief so strong it has him trembling where he stands, remnants of his master's throat clumped in his hand still.

He _lives_, and Danarius is _dead_, despite his magic and oil-slick words and the men sent after him over the years, the ichor and ash of demons on the tavern floor. Despite the traps he'd set off over the years, scattered across Kirkwall, despite his _sister _-

Rage, so easy, so vicious, teeth bared in something of a snarl as he advances on her, accuses her, lyrium brands bright and blinding and smeared with blood from fingertip to elbow. He'll kill her, _he'll kill her_, _she set him up_ -

But Hawke is there again, ever the immovable mountain at his back, a steadying presence now, the grip on his shoulder almost _punishing_, definitely bruising, and he rounds on him with a hiss.

_"Do not touch me!"_

"Wait, Fenris, think before you do this."

He - _can _do that now, can't he? Think before he acts, before he _reacts_. He has time now, with his master dead and soon to be a name and shadows in his memory.

He is not a puppet, he is not a slave. It is his life, and his alone to choose. Does he want this? Does he want his sister's life spilling at his feet? Does he want her _alive_, when she has brought his past to the present and threatened to steal his future from him? Can he let her walk away? Does he _dare?_ Had Danarius thought to plan for this - why bring his sister and not some pretense of her? One last dagger in the back, living the rest of his life knowing he wiped her from it?

And all the while, she watches the debate rage across his face, through the eyes boring holes into hers. Eyes like his but not, the shape of them right but the colour all wrong, too light, too faded. Their mother's colour, perhaps. He knows not.

Think. Think. What does_ he _think? He't not a mindless, thoughtless creature anymore. _He never was._

"I think," a rasp torn from his gut, the mere sound of it drawing a flinch from her, his sister, the traitor, "... I think there's been enough bloodshed tonight. Let us go home, Hawke."


End file.
